


Chaos Theory

by Seanbiggerstaffrox



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Character Study, Cheating, Dark Stiles, Jackson's back, M/M, Top Stiles Stilinski, post 3b
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 01:16:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1207408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seanbiggerstaffrox/pseuds/Seanbiggerstaffrox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just a high school party, but Stiles, still struggling with a taste for destruction in the nogitsune's absence, manages to ruin it by sleeping with Danny's boyfriend.</p><p>Also, Jackson's back in town.</p><p>(check notes for link to gifset)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chaos Theory

**Author's Note:**

> [accompanying gifs](http://allthesass.tumblr.com/post/77152324128/its-just-a-high-school-party-but-stiles-still) made by allthesass (who is brilliant. Seriously, just look at those gifs)
> 
> This was actually going to be a Stackson story at first and then it got out of hand. Thanks to allthesass for betaing! (and encouraging me to publish)

“Stiles!” 

Stiles rolls his eyes, turning to look back at a painfully familiar face. “Jackson.” Stiles mutters. 

Jackson’s returned to Beacon Hills, unfortunately. Worse yet, he seems determined to infiltrate Stiles’ life. Stiles suspects he’s trying to worm his way into the pack (or whatever you want to call it) in which case he’s going the totally wrong route. If Jackson approaches anyone, it should be Scott, but Stiles thinks Jackson’s a little intimidated by the alpha. 

Also, Jackson’s probably harboring some resentment for the whole co-captain/Lacrosse debacle. So instead, Stiles gets the pleasure of being some sort of go-between for Jackson. 

“You hear about the party?” Jackson asks.

Stiles blinks, looking at him in surprise. “Party?” He asks. It's been so long since he's said it that the word feels heavy and foreign on his tongue. The concept seems weird too, like Stiles has spent so long out of the high school mindset that he doesn’t know how to have fun anymore. 

Jackson sighs. “Yes, Stiles, a party. You know, music, dancing?”

Stiles huffs, turning and continuing down the hallway. 

“It’s at Brad’s.” Jackson calls after him. 

Stiles waves his hand dismissively, but he finds the thought sticking in his mind. It's been a while since he’s done the carefree teenager thing.

~`*`~ ~`*`~ ~`*`~ 

“You sure about this?” Scott asks.

It’s night and they’re parked outside of Brad’s house, where the party seems to be in full swing. Stiles can feel the thrum of music resonate in his body, even from the shelter of his jeep, and the silhouettes of grinding figures dance across the curtains, an enticing, chaotic image that draws Stiles in. 

Kira’s waiting outside the vehicle for them, bouncing up and down excitedly, refreshingly oblivious to the wave of tension wafting off of Scott and Stiles. It’s still hard, after the nogitsune, after everything, and Stiles feels like they’re walking on eggshells with each other. Stiles feels like he’s walking on eggshells in general, always high-strung, waiting for something to break or fall apart. He can still feel that darkness swirling in his chest, the presence of the Nemeton a constant pressure on his heart, and he keeps waiting for something to grow up from the blackness and swallow him again. 

Stiles still has a taste for destruction. It sticks like a thick weight to the back of his throat, a type of thirst that takes him by surprise and makes him ache for violence and pain. When he stares at Brad’s house, he feels it rise up, fingers itching to go in and cause a little panic, even if it’s his own. 

“It’s just a party.” Stiles says, hiding his yearning behind a nonchalant shrug. 

“Stiles…” Scott starts, and he must smell something on Stiles, because he looks worried. 

“Don’t want to keep your date waiting.” Stiles says, nodding at Kira and winking. He exits the car while Scott’s distracted, fleeing from any more of Scott’s objections. 

Entering the house is an experience. Stiles is still nervous, still jittery, but there’s a part of him that feels like he’s in his element surrounded by all those hormones, all that emotion. Stiles takes a deep breath, feels like he gets high off it when pheromones and the smell of alcohol circle in his nose. Stiles steals a red cup from someone’s hand, not caring much what’s in it. Ignoring their protest, he downs the contents, relishing the burn in his throat and crinkling the cup when it’s empty, dropping it carelessly on the floor as he makes his way through the writhing bodies. 

He feels steady - steadier than he should. Stiles is _awkward_. Even when confident, he doesn’t move smoothly, doesn’t ever settle, he takes up space and stands out like a sore thumb. But the further Stiles gets into the house, the more his social ineptitude fades under a sense of control. Stiles doesn’t feel awkward, he feels like liquid and electricity, he feels like _power_ , raw and pure as he parts the crowd and feeds off the energy in the room. 

“Oh!” Someone rams into him, letting out a shout of surprise. 

Stiles looks down, takes in wide blue eyes and blond hair. Stiles can sense the attraction rolling off him, doesn’t miss the way those wide blue eyes take him in, trailing down over Stiles’ tight sweater and skinny jeans. 

“Sorry.” The guys says awkwardly, holding his hand out. “I’m Mike.”

Mike, Danny’s new boyfriend. 

“Stiles.” Stiles greets, shaking the guys hand. It’s soft and warm and Stiles strokes his fingers lightly against the skin, overt and inappropriate. Some part of his mind tells him that something’s wrong, but Stiles ignores it; he’s going off instinct now, feeding off the life in the room and diving headfirst into the chance for some mischief. 

Mike looks up at him in surprise and Stiles smiles innocently. 

“Dance?” Stiles asks. The advantage of the loud music is that he has to lean close to Mike’s ear to be heard, an intimate gesture that helps reel Mike in. 

Mike studies him for a moment then glances back nervously, presumably looking for Danny. Stiles pretends like he doesn’t notice. Stiles pretends like he doesn’t know that Danny’s right there in the next room, trapped in the kitchen by a persistent Ethan who’s halted Danny’s effort to get drinks.

“Yeah, alright.” Mike says, a nervous grin on his lips when Stiles steps into his space. 

Stiles doesn’t know how to dance. Well, Stiles didn’t know how to dance, but it seems like that’s changed, because he’s leading Mike in a slow grind, confident hands wandering over Mike’s body and keeping him close. 

“You’re, uh…you’re really good.” Mike says, licking his lips. 

The corner of Stiles’ mouth twitches. “Not so bad yourself.” Stiles says, running his palm teasingly along Mike’s tailbone. Mike shivers, fingers winding around Stiles’ hips, tracing the skin that peaks out under the hem of his sweater. 

“I haven’t seen you around.” Mike notes. 

“Just got out of a relationship.” Stiles lies. 

“Oh. Sorry.” Mike says. 

Stiles shrugs. “It wasn’t working. I like my freedom, you know?” 

Mike does know, biting his lip and glancing around once again. He seems to contemplate something for a moment then leans close. “Hey, you wanna get out of here?” He asks. 

_‘Bingo.’_ Stiles thinks.

Stiles shakes his head and Mike’s face falls in disappointment. “Upstairs.” Stiles says. “It’s hotter if we can get caught.” Stiles explains at Mike’s confused look.

Mike’s face goes beet red and he nods lamely. Stiles grins, grabbing Mike’s hand and leading him up the staircase. 

By the time they get to the second story, they’re kissing, lips pressing hot and hungry against each other. Stiles feels victorious as Mike melts beneath him, letting out moans and whimpers when Stiles’ tongue strokes his, and Stiles swallows the sounds, pressing Mike back against the wall, losing himself for a moment and letting them linger in the hallway. Mike lets out a disappointed moan when Stiles pulls away, walking backwards and leading Mike through the corridor. Stiles opens the first unlocked room he finds, pulling Mike back into the darkness. They end up in a bedroom and Stiles grins in satisfaction.

Stiles closes the door behind him and starts stripping immediately. 

“Did you lock it?” Mike asks. 

“Yeah.” Stiles lies. 

Mike turns and his eyes fall to Stiles’ exposed torso. The curtains are open, moonlight streaming in and lighting them up, casting them in a blue hue.

“Top or bottom?” Mike asks, staring down at Stiles’ hands as Stiles starts stripping out of his pants. 

“I’m not picky.” Stiles says. Stiles pushes his jeans down and Mike takes in the shape of Stiles’ cock through his tight black briefs.

“I could bottom.” Mike says, sounding breathless. 

Stiles steps smoothly out of his pants and shoes and makes his way over to Mike. “How about,” Stiles starts, reaching out to unbutton Mike’s shirt, “I lay down on the bed and you ride me?”

Mike swallows thickly. “I could…I could do that.”

Stiles hums. “I bet you could. I bet you’d look so pretty sitting on my cock.” Stiles says, pressing a soft kiss against Mike’s lips. “Won’t you?”

Stiles doesn’t know where this is coming from and his heart’s pounding in his chest, because this isn’t him. This isn’t the type of thing he does, but he can’t seem to stop himself, the absolute rush of it slamming through him. He’s going to hell, but it feels amazing. 

“Yeah.” Mike gasps, leaning into Stiles’ touch. 

When Mike’s naked, Stiles peels out of his briefs, grabs the condom from his pants pocket, and lays back on the mattress. This close, he can make out the Barbie pattern on the bed cover and he thinks this must be Brad’s younger sibling’s room. Stiles smirks and focuses on Mike preparing himself. Mike has lube, fortunately, and Stiles wonders if Mike and Danny had something planned or if Mike was waiting for someone to come along. It doesn’t matter much to Stiles in the long run.

When Mike’s got three fingers in, Stiles reaches for his condom, tearing the wrapper open with his teeth. Mike takes in the motion with hungry eyes, a groan falling from his lip when Stiles bites the condom between pearly whites and works it out of the package with his mouth. 

Stiles tosses the wrapper and takes the condom, pulling it onto his cock and smiling when he gets it on successfully. Mike lets out a low sound as he takes his fingers out of his entrance and then it’s Stiles’ turn to moan, because Mike’s wrapping oily fingers around Stiles’ member, slicking it up. Mike’s hand moves to the base, holding it steady as he shifts, pressing his entrance down over the head of Stiles’ dick. 

Stiles groans, delighting in the feel of Mike taking him in. Stiles was right, Mike does look pretty sitting on his cock, and when Mike sinks down fully, legs straddling Stiles’ hips and a look of pure satisfaction on his face, Stiles tells him as much. 

“God, you’re the worst.” Mike groans, diving forward and pressing his lips against Stiles’. 

Stiles kisses him back, moaning when Mike starts to move. The walls vibrate from the speakers below, masking the sound of the bed banging against the wall as Mike rides him. Stiles sits up, pressing nips and sucks along Mike's neck and collarbone, mouth opening against Mike's skin as he gasps from Mike’s ministrations. Mike’s a total slut for it, moaning obscenely and reciting odes to Stiles’ cock as he slams himself open on it, and fuck, but Stiles loves every second. 

“Oh fuck, fuck.” Mike moans, clutching at Stiles’ shoulders. 

Stiles reaches his hand down, circling it over the head of Mike’s cock, collecting drops of precum on his fingers. He slicks his palm up with the liquid and takes Mike’s dick in his grip. Mike cries out and Stiles licks a line up his neck as he starts stroking. 

It’s fast and dirty and it doesn’t last long, Mike and Stiles spilling over the edge far too soon, clutching at each other and releasing cries of pleasure. They have a brief moment to come down before the door’s opening and the light’s coming on.

“Oh man, guys!” And there’s Brad, cringing and trying not to look at them. “This is my little brother’s room!”

“I thought you locked the door?” Mike hisses.

Stiles shrugs. “Oops?” Stiles says before looking over at Brad. “Do you mind?” He asks and Brad rolls his eyes. 

“Hey, what’s going on -” Danny comes up next, freezing behind Brad and staring at them with wide eyes. “Mike?” Danny asks, then his eyes stray to Stiles, whose body is vibrating, energy swirling around him at the beautiful look of _betrayal_ written across Danny’s face. “ _Stiles?!_ ” Danny steps back like he’s been hit. 

“No, Danny, wait!” Mike calls as Danny retreats. Mike pulls away from Stiles, flinching when Stiles’ softening dick slips out of him. Mike recovers quickly, rushing for his pants and pulling them on. He abandons his shirt, doing the fly of his trousers and chasing after Danny, calling his name. 

Stiles sighs, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and stretching, rolling his head to work out the cricks in his neck. He grabs the condom, eyeing it with disgust before tying it off and tossing it in the waste bin, which also has Barbie on it, and the sight of the soiled condom sitting inside is totally hilarious to Stiles. Brad’s still standing in the doorway, so Stiles doesn’t laugh, but he does raise his eyebrow, tilting his head curiously at the guy. 

“You want a go?” He asks, gesturing at himself. 

Brad flushes, coughing awkwardly and taking a step back. “I’ll just go back to the party. And you…you should probably leave.” He adds the last part as an afterthought and Stiles should probably feel embarrassed but he just nods in agreement. He’s tired of the party anyway, and, really, after losing his virginity and getting in the way of a couple’s happiness, there just isn’t that much else to do. 

Stiles waits for Brad to exit the room before rising from the bed. He moves slowly as he goes to get dressed, feeling sated and satisfied, like he just ate a four course meal. Muscles that have been tensed for weeks have finally relaxed and Stiles feels clear-headed, peaceful. His mellow solitude is broken when the door slams open and Jackson stomps in, looking murderous. 

Jackson looks good, Stiles has to admit. Jackson’s dressed up in a nice Henley and tight jeans. His hair is perfectly coiffed, and even though Jackson almost always looks perfect, he seems especially so tonight. Stiles wonders if he might’ve been trying to look good for someone. 

Stiles is half dressed, torso bared still, and Jackson halts, eyes taking the sight of him in. Clearly, Stiles isn’t who Jackson expected when he entered the room.

“You come to beat me up?” Stiles asks casually as he does up the zip on his jeans. 

“Stiles? You’re the one who-” Jackson stops, like he can’t even bare to finish the sentence. 

“Ah, so you knew Danny’s boyfriend cheated on him, but you didn’t know who with. And you still came in here to defend his honor. That’s sweet.” Stiles says and he doesn’t even get a chance to go for his shirt because Jackson’s grabbing his shoulders and slamming him back into the wall. 

Stiles lets out a grunt of pain that morphs into a laugh. “Is this the part where you warn me to stay away? Or were you just planning on punching my lights out?”

Jackson’s eyebrows furrow and he searches Stiles’ face for answers to some sort of question that Stiles doesn’t care about. 

“What happened to you, Stilinski?” Jackson asks, and Stiles rolls his eyes.

“You want the short version, Whittemore?” Stiles asks, and he starts to feel a little more himself, a little more angry. “This whole town’s fucked.” 

Jackson frowns. “What do you mean?”

Stiles leans forward, staring intensely into Jackson’s eyes. “Where do you think Boyd went, huh? You remember him? And what about Erica? What do you think happened to her? Or Harris. You notice he’s gone? Because we still haven’t found the body.” This close up, Stiles can see each tiny action it takes for Jackson’s eyes to go wide as the shock settles in. 

Jackson’s grip on Stiles’ loosens. “They’re-?” He stops himself, like this too is too much for him to voice aloud. 

“Dead.” Stiles finishes for him. “Dead as door nails.” Stiles says, giving Jackson a sick, insincere smile. “There was a whole pack of alphas, and that was a whole lot of fun.”

“An alpha pack?” Jackson echoes disbelievingly.

“Oh yeah, but don’t worry, it’s not as bad as it sounds. A druid took care of ‘em for us. Of course, that was only after she sacrificed half the town and powered up a magical _beacon_ right there in the middle of the woods that’s a gigantic, flashing neon sign to anything else out there that wants a piece of us. Are you starting to get the picture, Jackson?” Stiles asks and he can feel the distress coming off the jock, but it’s not satisfying like it was on Danny and Mike, it’s not a pure, powerful energy like Stiles got from the party. It’s just frustrating and maddening and he hates Jackson for it, wants to tell him that he’s not allowed to feel like that, because he was gone and then he just waltzed back in and he doesn’t have the right to feel upset. Stiles wants to destroy Jackson, and he knows in that moment that if he could, he would. And he almost regrets the nogitsune’s absence, misses the power that came with having the spirit in him, because he could’ve _crushed_ Jackson so easily. 

“Is it starting to make sense in that pretty little head of yours,” Stiles says, glaring so hatefully at Jackson he thinks he could slaughter him with the look alone, “Why I don’t give a shit about this little tough guy act of yours? And why I don’t give a fuck about your stupid, _stupid_ friend’s happiness?”

“Don’t talk about Danny like that.” Jackson snaps.

“Why not?” Stiles asks. “Danny gets to float around in his happy little bubble, bouncing from boyfriend to boyfriend. You know he actually dated a werewolf? And he still doesn’t know.”

“So you, what? Got jealous and slept with his boyfriend?” Jackson asks. 

Stiles smirks. “No, I did that for fun.”

“You-” Jackson takes a step toward him and Stiles thinks Jackson might hit him. Hell, Stiles wants Jackson to hit him, because Stiles isn’t himself and he knows it, can feel the darkness swelling and throbbing in his chest. 

“Stiles!” Scott shouts, stopping whatever action Jackson was going to take. 

“Scotty!” Stiles greets, waving his hand. 

“Stiles, what did you do?” Scott asks, looking at him with wild, panicked eyes. 

“Had sex. Aren’t you going to congratulate me?”

“Yeah, buddy, that’s great.” Scott says, walking slowly toward him. “I’m just gonna take you home, okay dude?”

Stiles snorts. “I’m not gonna stab you, Scott. You know, again.”

Scott flinches and Stiles laughs, moving around Jackson and grabbing his discarded shirt. 

“What-” Jackson starts.

“Don’t.” Scott says, and his voice is rough and sad. Stiles wants to absorb the pain, wants to eat it up. 

Stiles pulls his shirt on and turns his back on Jackson, starting his way out of the house. He smirks in the wake of the judgmental eyes looking his way, Danny’s friends obviously having heard all about Stiles and Mike’s fling. Scott stays close behind Stiles, half guarding him and half herding him. 

Stiles lets out a happy laugh as they step outside, breathing in the fresh air. “Well, that was fun.” Stiles says.

“Yeah, it was great.” Scott agrees, and Stiles realizes he’s lying, but he doesn’t care.

“Where’s Kira?” Stiles asks. 

“She went home already.” Scott says, not elaborating as they head to the jeep. Stiles tosses his keys to Scott before Scott can ask for them, going into the passenger seat. He sleeps all the way back to his house.


End file.
